


Analgesia

by exbex



Series: The Most Dangerous Man [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-29
Updated: 2012-06-29
Packaged: 2017-11-08 20:29:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/447214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exbex/pseuds/exbex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 1.03, "The Great Game" Sherlock sends John to deal with Mycroft's request at the 24 minute mark.  I was musing over how John seemed more fidgety and less comfortable around Mycroft, whereas in series 2, he's decidedly more assertive.  Well of course this is due to the progression of time, an increasingly fierce loyalty to Sherlock, and John's rising levels of feeling like he's in the right place in his life, etc.  But then of course my mind went to its den of iniquity and wrote a PWP, even though I wanted to write a nice, post-TRF gen piece instead.  Oh well.  For those of you who have followed my John/Mycroft series, this is in a completely different, decidedly less romantic, universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Analgesia

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Анальгезия](https://archiveofourown.org/works/914823) by [Regis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regis/pseuds/Regis)



John wonders, as he fidgets in Mycroft’s office, if Sherlock knows. On the one hand, Sherlock would probably have let out an overly dramatic expression of disgust upon deducing that John lusts after Mycroft. On the other hand, Sherlock can be indecipherable, and he may have simply dreamt up some bizarre reason to exploit John’s attraction that he will only reveal to John during some terribly inconvenient and/or embarrassing moment.

 

John represses a sigh and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Mycroft Holmes has no bloody right to be so gorgeous, and composed, even in the midst of what looks to be some truly serious tooth pain.

 

The voice, even with all of its posh, condescending quality, is making John harden, and he tries to casually cross his legs. This will simply not do, he muses. He just needs to get laid, or, maybe start his morning runs again. John likes cock. John is not ashamed of this fact, but even he is not reckless enough to start something with the highly powerful brother of his flatmate cum...whatever Sherlock is turning out to be to him.

 

Or, maybe he is.

 

“Are you taking anything for that?” It’s not his best line, but what is he possibly going to be able to say that would impress the man who functions as the British government?

 

Mycroft waves the question away. “Painkillers slow me down. Now...”

 

“Endorphins,” John interrupts even as the sensible portions of his brain are screaming at him to retreat, “can produce analgesia.”

 

Some people would look bewildered, or ask for an explanation, or, at the very least, raise their eyebrows. Mycroft does none of these things, just meets John’s gaze with a steady gaze of his own, unwavering.

 

John very slowly gets to his feet and approaches Mycroft, not breaking eye contact even as he drops to his knees. This would be the moment where anyone else would show some form of reaction, but Mycroft merely looks down. If anything, his gaze shifts from imperious to intrigued.

 

“Look,” John says, suddenly feeling a rush of self-consciousness, which is laughable. Whatever Mycroft Holmes decides to think of him after this is over will not likely be affected by whatever John will say. “I don’t just do this with anyone.”

 

“Obviously,” Mycroft replies, indicating that there is no need for further explanation. 

 

With his-completely steady-left hand John slowly pulls Mycroft’s zip down, then uses both hands to free his swollen cock. His mouth waters at the sight: curved, thick. He leans in to take Mycroft into his mouth, licking and moaning shamelessly before relaxing his throat and taking him down.

 

Mycroft’s gasps sound surprised, and John feels emboldened. His hands scrabble for something, finding the smooth mahogany of the desk. John braces himself and moves, any trace of self-consciousness gone.

 

John chokes a bit when Mycroft climaxes, but he swallows determinedly. Holmes’ aren’t the only ones who can look poised. He gives some final licks, then pulls off and tucks Mycroft back in in a few fluid motions, grimacing as his knee pops when he stands.

 

John has a raging hard-on, but he’s fully prepared to bugger off, having both the information he needs and an unwillingness to wear out his welcome. But Mycroft anchors him with one arm behind his back, giving John’s lips a careful swipe with a handkerchief. Then, with a barely perceptible smirk, he gives John’s own zip a tug and pulls him out, using the same handkerchief (silk, John has a moment to decipher), to grasp and stroke.

 

John already feels intoxicated, and when Mycroft murmurs “next time I’m going to bend you over this desk and have you properly” into his ear, he’s over the edge, holding onto Mycroft’s arms as he rides through his climax.

 

Mycroft takes his time smoothing John’s coat, tie, and trousers, probably eliminating creases and wrinkles that would be invisible to anyone besides a certain consulting detective. He walks John the short distance to the door and gives him a small smile. John thinks it looks affectionate, even grateful, but then wonders if he’s imagined it.


End file.
